


My Gun

by JustAn0therFang1rl



Series: It Gets Easier to Love You [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bad Jokes, Based on a song, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Ghosts, Song fic, not enough sam, reader is a nurse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 20:25:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7655527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAn0therFang1rl/pseuds/JustAn0therFang1rl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're a nurse who meets Sam and Dean while they're on a hunt. You get possessed by a ghost and shoot Dean. There's some fluff and bad jokes.</p><p>Loosely based on the song "My Gun" by The Rubens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Gun

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time trying to write a short fic, so don't shoot me. Please leave comments if there are any errors.

Agent Baldwin, or _Dean_ , as he told you to call him, notices you across the bar. He makes his way over to you.

“Hey,” he says. “[Y/N], right? Emmalynn Cassick’s homecare nurse?”

You nod. “Agent Dean Baldwin, right?” you counter.

He smirks at you, his mossy eyes gleaming. “Yeah. So what are you doing here?”

You hold up your mojito. “Drinking. You?”

He holds up his bottle of beer and taps the lip of it to your glass. “Same. Off duty.”

“Yeah, me too.” You gnaw on your lip, thinking about your client and her older sister. “I wonder how much Emmalynn actually knows about what’s going on.”

“Losing a sibling is hard,” Dean agrees. “It’s something I wouldn’t wish on anyone. If Emmalynn doesn’t know, it might actually be better.”

“Yeah. Especially because who knows what could happen to her health after a trauma like this? Her immune system is so fragile. If she’s stressed or sad, it could make her even more vulnerable to illness.”

“I know it won’t come to much comfort, but we _will_ find out exactly what happened to Anne,” Dean promises.

“I heard that the coroner said that she was hanged ante mortem. Is that true?”

He looks down at the counter, nodding. He looks into your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

You sigh. “Me too. I just don’t understand why someone would want to kill Anne. She was _so_ kind to everyone she met. And so much potential.”

“We _will_ find out who did it.”

You finish your drink and stand up. “I should go. I’m sure this won’t be the last time I see you.”

Dean smirks again, and damn does it take your breath away. “I hope so.  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

You don’t know how it happened, or why, but somehow, you ended up here. Staring down at Dean’s bloody body, lying on the cold pavement. He opened his green eyes and sees you standing there in confusion and horror.

“I, I, I… I don’t know what happened,” you stutter. “I’ve never… I wouldn’t…”

Dean groans as he tries to sit up. You snap out of your trance to help him, aware of his injury.

“I am so sorry. Please, let me stitch you up,” you plead.

“I’m fine, really,” Dean insists. “It’s not the first time I’ve been shot. Probably won’t be the last.”

You blink fast, trying to keep the tears threatening to spill over at bay. “I don’t know what happened. I was aware of everything but I couldn’t do anything to stop it. I just wanted to stop. But I couldn’t. Why couldn’t I stop?” You’re about to break into hysterics. Dean puts his hands on the sides of your face, looking into your wet eyes.

“Hey, look at me,” he instructs. You do has he says, letting your [Y/E/C] bore into his emerald ones. “This is not your fault, okay? Don’t put this on yourself.”

“But I...I _shot_ you! With your own gun! What kind of person does that?!” You are absolutely horrified with yourself.

Dean moves a lock of your hair out of your face before returning his hand to your cheek. “I promise you, it is not your fault.” He sighs. “If you want, I’ll explain everything to you once I’m patched up, okay?”

You nod, not trusting your voice.  


You take Dean to your one-story house. You have him sit at your dining table while you grab the medical supplies needed to stitch him up. You try to look at him like just another patient, not someone you’ve been having fantasies about since you first met him. In doing so, you force yourself to go numb, to not feel anything.

“Why so serious?” Dean asks, doing a Joker impression.

“I’m trying to get the bullet out of your shoulder,” you narrate, keeping your eyes on his wound.

“[Y/N], you know this isn’t your fault, right?”

You pause, forcing yourself to glance up at his eyes for a moment before returning to your work.

“Okay, then.” He sighs, thinking. You feel him look up at you a couple times, but you don’t acknowledge it. You focus on getting the rest of the bullet fragments out of his flesh.

“Well, hey, at least you know you’re good at giving shots,” Dean teases, a smirk on his face.

You stifle laughter. Even though it is funny, you still feel really bad about shooting Dean. You still have no idea what made you do it. Your lips barely twitch.

“If you wanted to bring me home, you could’ve just asked,” Dean continues.

“This might sting a bit,” you warn Dean as you bring gauze dipped in hydrogen peroxide to his wound. Dean hisses.

“Wow, you’re so hot that I sizzle when you touch me,” Dean remarks once you’ve put the gauze down. You grab a needled syringe and prep it.

“This is some topical anesthetic to numb the area before I stitch it up,” you inform him.

“Well I was hoping to poke you with my needle, but I guess the other way works, too.” Dean gives a shit eating grin.

You close your eyes, unable to help the small smile that plays on your lips.

“That was _really_ bad,” you comment.

“It made you smile, though.”

You give Dean a bitchface.

“Yeah, I guess I shouldn’t being trying to leave you stitches. You _are_ the expert.” It seems as though Dean isn’t relenting on the jokes anytime soon.

“If I want to laugh, I’ll just look at your face,” you retaliate. “It’s the only thing about you that’s funny.” You smirk at him, showing you’re only teasing.

“Well, I am wounded.”

“I know, that’s why I’m stitching you up.”

Dean starts laughing, throwing his head back. You know it’s stupid of you to think, but you wish you could hear more of Dean’s musical laughter.

Dean felt accomplished with getting you to tease him back, so he stays silent and still while you stitch him up.

“I wish I had another to shirt to give you,” you comment once you’re finished. “Unfortunately, the best I can do is get the blood out and sew the hole together.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean insists, pulling his old shirt back on, minding his shoulder. You couldn’t help but stare at his hip bones as the hem teases the skin there. “I guess I should get out your hair then.”

“Wait.” You gently grab his forearm, stopping him from going anywhere. “You said you’d explain everything.”

Dean sighs. “Yeah, I guess I did. But once you know, you can’t un-know. Are you ready for that?”

You nod. How bad could it be?

“You were possessed by a ghost. You didn’t have any control over your body because it was overpowering you.”

“A ghost?” You aren’t sure if he’s telling a very convincing lie or if he’s actually telling the truth.

“A ghost. Ghosts are real. So are demons and vampires and just about anything you can think of.”

“Bigfoot?”

“Okay, not Bigfoot. But the Loch Ness Monster is real.”

Something dawns on you as you process what Dean’s saying. “So...was Anne killed by this ghost?”

Dean looked down at the ground, then back up at you. That is all the answer you need.

“I was afraid of that. So you and Agent Margin...you hunt these things?”

“Yeah. His name is Sam, by the way. And he’s my brother. My name is Dean Winchester.”

You stare at Dean. “I should be pissed at you for lying to me, but for some reason...I can’t be. Maybe it’s because I shot you not even two hours ago.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “ _You_ didn’t shoot me. The ghost did.”

“It sure felt like me,” you sigh.

“I know. Believe me, I know. I’ve been there, too.”

“So...if monsters are real, what can I do to protect myself?” you question.

Dean licks his lips, causing you to do the same before you bite your bottom lip. “Well, salt and iron work against both ghosts and demons. Holy water works against demons. Those are the most common. With vampires, you have to cut their heads off.”

You wince at the thought.

“Dead man’s blood is also effective against vampires. It’s like a tranquilizer for them,” Dean continues. “Silver works against werewolves and shifters.”

“Shifters? Like shapeshifters?”

“Yeah. So that’s monster protection 101. If you have anymore questions, you have my number.” Dean stands up. “I should get going.”

“Wait.” You grab the pad and pen you keep on your fridge and jot down your number real quick. You hand the paper to Dean. “If you’re ever in the area or need medical advice, give me a call. It was nice to meet you, Dean Winchester.”

Dean smirks at you. “Likewise, [Y/N] [Y/L/N].”

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't heard the song, you should definitely take a listen. I found The Rubens after hearing "I'll Surely Die" on Supernatural. It plays at the beginning of 8x18 "Freaks and Geeks".
> 
> I have more works planned for this verse, but each one can be read individually.


End file.
